Give Me Love
by Twilightholic-Tanya
Summary: It wasn't what mythology made it out to be. I didn't shoot people I thought should be together. Love was already there. I only had to give them their start. The courage to make a move. What happened afterward was up to them.


_**Title: Give me Love**_

_**Summary: **_It wasn't what mythology made it out to be. I didn't shoot people I thought should be together. Love was already there. I only had to give them their start. The courage to make a move. What happened afterward was up to them.

_Give me love like never before, 'cause lately I've been craving more.  
-Ed Sheeran_

What is love?

Is it, as defined in a dictionary, a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person, parent, child, or friend?

Is it a sequence of synapses fired off in the brain due to another body's reaction, as science so elegantly puts it?

Is it just a spiritual emotion, a belief, someone must just know is there?

What is love?

You could ask the question over and over again and I would provide you with only one answer.

Me.

...

"Where are we going?" I giggled, feeling tipsy and tired. I liked him, though. He was quite the charmer with his dark hair and smooth voice. He smiled and pressed his lips to my neck, his scruff ticking my skin and sending tingles down my spine.

"We're just having some fun," he said, running his hands up my dress and pushing me back toward a brick wall. Though his fingers brought the quick cloud of lust over my mind, I could not ignore my surroundings. I could not ignore the foul stench seeping through the heavy lids of the aqua dumpsters or the rough texture of the brick wall snagging against my dress.

"No, Paul, stop," I mumbled as his lips reached my mouth, his teeth dragging my lower lip into his mouth.

"You don't want to stop," he said, his hand reaching to grab my breast. His fingers slid over the fabric of my clothes in an attempt to stop my protest. This angered my drunken mind and I pulled my mouth away.

I pushed him off, perhaps with a bit more force than I had intended. Or perhaps his body was weak from the alcohol. . He stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on his ass in a muddy puddle. He looked pissed. He stared down at his outfit, covered in dirty water and splattered with stains.

My eyes widened at my own strength and the act I had just performed. I immediately felt guilty. I bent down to his side, eager to check if he was okay. I offered my hand, but his strong arm pushed my shoulders away. Tipsy and in heels, my balance escaped me and I sprawled backward on my own ass, my dress tearing against the gravel.

"Fuckin tease! Find your own way home," he growled, picking himself up and brushing off the small stones from his pants.

"No, wait! Paul, I just meant—" I scrambled to my feet, the skin of my knees protesting against the sharp rocks. I tried to grab for his arm, to stop him, but he simply swung me loose and walked out the alley, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

My anger flared, as I sat back on my legs in the dirty alley.

"Fuckin' prick!" I shouted, feeling the hot tears sting my eyes and run down my cheeks.

A dark shadow ran through my peripheral vision and I screamed, scrambling to my feet and stumbling for balance in shoes I was not comfortable in. I staggered into the cold brick walk, the surface slicing the palm of my hand as I tried to steady myself.

The dark shadow hissed and its tawny yellow eyes came into vision. A cat.

It hissed once more before scurrying into a darkened corner of the alley, most likely hunting for dinner.

The guilt I held over stopping Paul faded as I took in my surroundings. Virgin or not, no one deserved to be taken in a dingy alley.

I slid down the wall, holding my knees toward my chest and resting my cheek against my cut knee caps. Tonight could have gone better, but they never did. It never worked.

Every boy was the same and I had begun to think that it simply wasn't worth it.

What was I searching for anyway? A love? A soulmate?

Did I want to be tied down at nineteen, married with kids? I didn't. I wanted none of it. I was done. So done.

"Ow!" I whined as something sharp pricked my neck. My hand flew toward the object. My fingers wrapped around something long and wooden. Before I could pull the object out, it vanished in my hands, leaving nothing but air in my fingertips. What the hell just happened?

Afraid something had bitten me; I climbed to my feet and examined the spot I had been sitting in. When I found nothing, my eyes examined the alley and the eerie darkness that swallowed the other end.

Something wasn't right. I began to walk away, deciding I should leave before trouble could find me.

Before I could take a step, my neck began to burn and I feared something had really bitten my. My hand grasped my smooth skin, searching for bumps or signs of irritation. A sudden whisper stole my attention back into the mouth of the alley. I turned and again scanned the darkness.

"W-who's there?" I asked, my eyes trying to distinguish shapes within the darkness.

I scratched at the spot on my neck. It itched so badly.

"H-Hello?" I asked, fear making my voice shake. From the darkness came an object, rolling out and landing in front of my feet. I bent slowly to examine it.

A bow?

It was beautiful, long and glowing white. The limps were made of something not quite wood. It was smooth in my hands, like ivory, but I knew bows weren't made of ivory. It had to be flexible, yet it still felt like caressing the keys of my piano. It was soothing and comforting to touch.

The string was barely visible in the pale light, but it glittered as though covered in tiny speckles of water or maybe snow.

I looked up again, wondering if it would be foolish to travel into the darkness to see who had thrown this. Surely they wanted it back. It was beautiful.

Suddenly something else hit my feet. I hadn't even seen this get thrown. Where had it come from?

It was a quiver filled with arrows. I picked up the quiver, feeling the soft leather in my hands. Slowly, I pulled out an arrow. It seemed to be made of the same material as the bow. The fletching made of soft white feathers.

When I touched the shaft, I felt a strong surge of electricity run through my fingers.

"What is this?" I asked, looking up again toward the curtain of darkness that overlapped the end of the alley.

A white figure stumbled its way to the light, falling and laying on its chest. I fell and crawled backward, startled by the movement.

"I'm so sorry, my child," the creepy figured answered, falling toward its knees. I couldn't even distinguish its gender. Its eyes were sunken and dark, its face so thin the skin molded to the bone underneath. Long wisps of golden hair fell down its face. Its body so thin, it looked like a pile of bones. I couldn't move.

It was so unearthly.

"What are you?" I whispered as the creature tried to move its arm toward me but gave up and rested against the dirty floor.

"Love," it breathed, collapsing suddenly. Its whole body seemed to melt into a dusty substance. A strong gush of wind blew, sending the ashy material into me. I curled into myself, but could feel the creatures ashes rub against my skin. I whimpered pathetically, disgusted by the feel of it.

When it stopped, I rushed to get to my feet. This was all a dream. That's all. I stumbled out of the alley way, running toward my dorm rooms. Leaving the beautiful bow and matching arrows behind.

I thought I could leave it behind me.

It wasn't that simple.

…

When I woke the next morning the bow and arrows were sprawled across my desk. I picked up the bow carefully.

_Eros_ suddenly appeared in elegant red scripts across the body. I dropped it as though it burned and let it clatter loudly on the desk.

I decided to ignore it. I didn't touch them for three days. This wasn't real to me. It couldn't be real. None of it made sense.

On the third night, something strange happened. I woke in the middle of the night to a horrible itch on my back. I shot off from bed and began clawing at whatever skin I could reach.

Finally I stripped down and ran into the showers, hoping the cool water would soothe the burning itch.

It did nothing. I continued to claw, feeling my skin grow irritated with large bumps. But something felt off. As my hands struggled to reach my back, I felt something come out from skin, something sharp. I tugged and I pulled until I could fully grasp the small splinter. I pulled and could feel it being drawn out of my skin. I cried in pain, pulling it out and looking at a bloodied feather. I screamed, dropping the horrific object and watching as the shower cleared it of blood. Suddenly my whole back was on fire.

I screamed in pain, feeling as though someone had ripped my entire back open.

The strength in my legs gave as I sank to my knees, watching the rivulets of water turn pink with blood. I gasped, the burning in my back never faded.

My vision clouded and I slumped to the side. Everything went black.

…

When I awoke again, something large and soft was covering my body. I thought I was in my bed for a moment, surrounded by sheets, but the blankets around me didn't fit right.

I opened my eyes groggily and pushed the offending blankets off me, but something was wrong. I sat up suddenly, my head spinning with the movement. My hands grasped what I had thought were sheets and I cried out.

They weren't sheets. They were feathers, but more than that, they were wings. I screamed as I crawled to my feet, turning to see the large white wings that stretched out beyond my arm length.

I could move them so easily, like moving an arm. I stared fascinated as I tucked the wings into my body. I pressed them tight against my skin. When I glanced in the mirror they weren't visible. I pushed them out my body again, staring at their horrifying beauty.

I tucked them in and wrapped a towel around myself, rushing out the bathroom and toward my dorm room.

Surely I was hallucinating. I was in a coma somewhere. Dreaming.

But things started to make sense.

The bow and arrow, the wings. The ghostly creature that had indentified itself as love.

The thought seemed silly. Preposterous.

I had gone insane. I would wake in an asylum soon, wings gone along with my sanity.

Then I remembered the word that had been etched on the bow: Eros.

…

For days I trapped myself in my room, playing with the arrows. Did they hurt? Was I meant to pierce anyone I wanted? Would it kill them?

The questions began to sink in as sat and contemplated the fact that I might be the god of love.

One night I snapped. I wrapped a jacket around my wings, placed the quiver on my back and grabbed the bow. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was headed, but I needed to do something other than just sit.

I started in the city. No one paid attention to me. No one bothered to even glance at the strange bow in my hand. I wondered if they could even see it.

Could they see me?

I traveled through the city until I came upon a diner. It was empty, except for two people.

A woman having a cup of coffee. The other a man, reading the paper and enjoying a slice a pie. Occasionally they looked at one another, a soft blush would tint their cheeks and they would look away.

The bow burned in my hand. Was this it then?

I grabbed an arrow from the quiver. Did I go inside?

No.

I didn't know how I knew the answer, I just did.

I had never even shot an arrow before, but holding it was as easy as breathing. I stretched my arm out, placing the arrow on the bow and pulling it hard against the string.

The man was suddenly illuminated in colors. A giant red circle glowed brightly against his heart and I knew I was meant to shoot there.

I held steady, looking straight at the man. I shifted my fingers, feeling the string go taught. Then I released it. The bow shot straight through the window and hit the man square in the chest. He gasped for a moment, his hand going to the spot where the arrow was. Before he could touch it, it disappeared, as though blown away by wind.

He looked at the woman once more, dropped his paper, and got up. He walked toward her table and sat, striking up a conversation and laughing. I dropped the bow and smiled.

That was just the beginning.

...

Fifty years changes a lot. In fifty years I watched the world change. I watched wars build and end. I watched fashion shift and technology advance. I witnessed the evolution of music and trends.

And yet, I still looked like the nineteen-year-old girl I was back in 1964.

When I was shot by that arrow, I had lost something precious. My humanity.

I didn't age. I didn't feel. I didn't die.

I did not need to eat, or shower, or even sleep. I found I could still do all these things if I wanted. I just didn't need to. Nothing affected me. Nothing could hurt me.

I was no longer Bella Swan.

I was Eros. I was Cupid.

...

It wasn't like mythology made it out to be. I didn't float around on a cloud and happily shoot people I was convinced should be together.

I wasn't always needed. People could find love on their own. If they met their soul mate, they didn't need my arrow. They just knew.

I, however, shot the lonely man grieving for the wife he lost.

I shot the girl who looked for love in the wrong places.

I shot the married man in love with the girl on the subway.

I shot the girlfriend who longed to be with her lover's sister.

Love was already there. It was what glowed brightly within the person I shot. It was what heated my bow. My arrow simply connected the strings. It brought the courage to act on what was already there.

Fear was what kept people away.

I knew I couldn't be the only one. I could feel it in my bones. I never left Chicago, enjoying the only remnant I could keep of my old life. I choose to do my searching at night, when the city seemed to be the busiest. I was never noticed. No one paid much attention to me.

I supposed it came with the job. I blended.

…

_January 1, 2014_

I was exhausted. I felt as though I had been everywhere today. I wandered into the small café. A quick check in my pockets let me know I could afford a small coffee.

Money was tight. It always was.

But somehow I always managed to get enough to live by.

When I was given my order, I took a seat. The hot cup warmed my frozen fingers and the steam thawed my face. I breathed in the heavy scent for a moment.

I startled when the seat across from me was pulled back.

I looked up at a man. He looked to be in his early twenties maybe late teens. He smiled, his green eyes glittering in the fluorescent light of the coffee shop. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Was it too busy to find another seat?" I asked.

He looked around the empty shop, passing by the barista popping her gum and playing with her phone. Other than us, there was no one here.

"More like it was too empty to sit anywhere else," he said smoothly, smiling again.

I huffed, but allowed him to sit.

He didn't say anything. He just sipped his coffee, but I could feel his stare.

I supposed I could have been pretty once. I had once had rich brown eyes and rid tinted hair. My face had been rounder with youth and innocence. My lips full and always colorful.

But now I did not feel pretty. My eyes had grown darker, the iris' blending with my pupil. My hair had lost the red tint usually brought in by the summer. My face had become skinner, my chin too pointed and my lips too pale.

I was not ugly. I was not pretty. I was plain. I was meant to blend.

But this boy had seen me and he kept looking.

"You're making me uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry."

He continued to stare.

"Stop," I said, never looking away from my coffee.

"I'm sorry."

He pissed me off.

"No you aren't. If you were sorry you would stop looking at me. What's your problem anyway?" I asked, finally looking at him.

"I just think you're pretty interesting," he commented.

"Oh and why is that?" I asked, wondering what this child could possibly find interesting.

"It's New Years Eve and a pretty girl like you is alone in a coffee shop? How'd that turn out?" he asked, quirking a russet brow. I tried not to blush at his compliment.

"It happened to be open."

"I see. No parties? No dates?"

"I don't date."

I might as well nip this conversation in the bud. Whatever he was looking for out of me, he wasn't going to find.

"Why not?" he asked, curiosity masking his face. I tilted my head.

"Because it always ends the same way," I answered.

"And how does it end?" he asked again. He was starting to bother me with his endless questions.

"In disappointment," I snapped, standing suddenly and leaving the deserted shop. It wasn't long until he was right behind me, following my quick steps in the crisp air and falling snow flakes.

"Why are you so cynical?"

"Why are you so curious? Ever hear about what it did to the cat?" I spat, wrapping my jacket around my arms.

"That's alright. I'm not a huge fan of cats anyway."

"Well, I'm not a huge fan of you," I shot back. He was annoyingly persistent. I wanted to shake him off me.

"Can I at least get your name?" he asked, barely making an effort to keep up with my quick short strides. His long legs kept my pace with ease. I stopped suddenly and turned to face him. He stumbled a bit and then stopped in front of me, his cheeks red with cold.

"Bella."

"Edward. Nice to meet you," he said, holding out his palm. I stared at it but didn't take it. I didn't know what this boy wanted. Guys like him didn't just want to know your name. They didn't chase down a girl that had no interest in him.

But yet his green eyes held nothing but simple curiosity and optimism.

"I'll see you around," I said slowly, turning and walking away.

"But will you?" he shouted from his place on the street. I turned and offered a smile.

...

It was ironic really. Valentine's day was my holiday. It was dedicated to me or at least the fictional baby they perceived me as. And yet, I never bothered to 'work' that day. It was _my_ holiday after all. Shouldn't I get to relax?

Besides that the day was filled with false love and pressure to find it. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. You found love when you least expect it.

It was on that day that he found me once more. I was sitting in the park, throwing bread crumbs at weary pigeons and he sat right next to me.

"Funny seeing you again?" he said, grinning brightly. I raised a brow and threw another piece of bread.

"Funny indeed. Are you following me?" I asked, though I knew the answer was no. It was impossible to track me.

"No, I've just been hopeful. See what wishful thinking gets ya?" he asked, laughing and rubbing his hands together. Maybe it was part of my supernatural abilities, but the cold didn't bother me much. In fact I had long forgotten what it felt like to be truly cold. I could feel the weather enough to know what temperature it was, it simply didn't bother me.

"Hmm," I hummed.

"Tell me something about yourself?" he asked.

"Like?" I said uncooperatively.

"What's your family like?" he asked.

"I don't have one."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice full of regret. I spared a glance to see his face full of sympathy. Sincere sympathy. I smiled.

"It's okay. I mean…I used to have one, but they passed away. My parents died when I was very young. I lived with my grandmother, but she passed away also," I whispered. It had been half a century since I'd last seen my grandmother. Time has an amazing talent of making grief easier.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What was she like?" he asked, turning on the bench to look at me.

I found myself telling him too. I shared my stories about the little old woman who raised me. I told him how she would sing me to sleep and how she bought a television just for me. How she bought me new ribbons for my hair.

He listened to my stories with such interest that it was so easy to keep talking. While he laughed at my silly stories I noticed how handsome his sharp jaw was and how his green eyes seem to light up with mirth.

"I should go," I said, several hours later. This boy made me lose track of time. He captured my attention and that was very dangerous.

"Well, can I at least get your number?" he asked and I noticed his lips tremble in cold. How long had he sat out here for me?

"I—uh—don't have one," I admitted, my cheeks lighting in pink.

"Can I see you again? Maybe someplace warmer?" he asked, eyes hopeful.

"I don't know if that's a good idea." I said. He smiled.

"Please."

"I'll think about it."

"Next Friday, at the coffee shop we met in. Seven O'clock. I'll be waiting. If you don't show up, I'll leave it at that," he said. I felt a smile twitch on my lips before turning and walking away.

That was how it begun.

...

I watched the boy. His fingers playing with the strands at the end of his scarf. My bow heated in my hands.

The light haired boy was then joined with a laughing blond boy. They greeted each other with hugs and began their usual walk by the lake. The bow continued to burn ever hotter. I pulled an arrow from my quiver.

I took aim, pulling the string taught and with a gentle flick of my fingers the arrow was airborne.

It flew in the air, piercing the brunette boy in the back. He stumbled forward and his friend hurried to catch his shoulders. I watched as the brunette placed his hands on his friend's shoulders for only a moment before kissing him full on the mouth.

I turned quickly, walking away from the scene.

I only had to give them their start. The courage to make a move. What happened afterward was up to them.

I looked at my watch. It was half past seven. I doubt he would still be there. I shouldn't go. It was stupid.

With a sigh I pulled off the leather jacket that concealed my wings. They didn't work like a bird's wings. They didn't fly me places. At least I didn't think so, but they got me where I needed to go.

I stretched them out, fluffing them in the cold winter air. It was tiresome to keep them wrapped in my jacket. I brought them around me, until they covered my body.

With a gush of wind, I was halfway across the city. The wings worked like a transportation device, taking me wherever I needed to go. I only needed to picture the location I wanted to be and I would be there in a matter of seconds.

I tucked my wings in and pulled my jacket back on, hurriedly walking out the alley I had transported into and towards the coffee shop.

The door made a soft jingle as I opened it. The place was nearly as empty as the last time I was here. I say nearly because he was there, waiting in the back corner with his back toward the door.

I made my way to his table and took a seat. He looked up from his coffee and smiled.

"Was it too busy to sit somewhere else?" he quoted with a crooked grin. I smiled.

"More like too empty to sit anywhere else," I quoted back.

He laughed. A full hearty laugh that seemed to fill the coffee shop with warmth and even caused the bored barista to crack a smile.

"You are secretly funny," he joked. I blushed.

"You are too nice."

"Maybe. But I like you."

"You don't even know me," I said taking the warm cup of coffee he had waiting for me. He leaned his forearms on the small rickety table and leaned in closer.

"I want to know you. I'm glad you came," he said. I wanted to tell him I was glad I came too, but I didn't have the heart to encourage…this.

When he said he wanted to know me, he didn't lie. He asked question after question, each seeming more trivial than the one before. He asked my favorite color, about my favorite books, about my favorite type of music.

I answered with what used to be me. Having grown up in a different era, my taste were surprising and considered old fashioned. I was sure he would find it strange, but it only seemed to increase his interests. We shared the little things about each other. It was nice and so very different than anything I had ever expected.

"Are you in school?" he asked, sometime after our conversation had lulled.

"I…was. I dropped out." It was a semi-truth. I had dropped out.

"Oh. Why?" he asked, but I didn't answer. I simply looked down at my coffee, knowing it was time to go. "What did you study?"

The question caught my attention.

"I was majoring in English," I answered. He was genuinely curious. It was strange. Most of the boys I dated didn't actually like the idea of my education. Times were shifting but they held old prejudices.

Sometimes I forgot just how much time had passed since I was actually a part of society and not a shadow in the outskirts.

He shared about his own schooling. His likes and dislikes and though I tried to fight it, I was laughing and smiling. He was interesting to listen to and share stories with. He listened and added funny comments and gestures.

When the busboy began to clean and the barista was staring daggers, I knew it was time to go. We picked up our things, threw them away, and walked into the frigid night air.

"Can I see you again?" he asked as we stepped onto the Chicago pavement.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"You keep saying that. But I don't think you mean it."

I opened my mouth to respond, to deny his statement, but I couldn't do that either. I sighed, sending white vapor into the cold air.

"Next Friday. Same time. Same place," Edward whispered, his own words turning into a cloud around his mouth. His fingers came to gently trace down my cheek.

I wanted to lean into his touch. I wanted to take a step closer.

I didn't, I turned quickly and walked away.

...

"You're so annoying," I laughed as Edward smiled. Somehow I had found myself back in the small coffee shop.

"You wouldn't like me if I wasn't," he quipped.

"Pretty sure of yourself, huh?" I asked with a raised brow.

"I have plenty to be sure of."

"Cocky aren't you," I said, leaning on my hand. I knew I didn't belong here. I wasn't supposed to be here with him, but the way his smile sent butterflies down my stomach, it was hard to avoid.

"Not cocky. Just confident."

"What's the difference?"

"When you're cocky, it's like you're overly proud of your abilities. I like to think I am just the right amount of proud, which makes me confident," he answered and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Interesting way of putting it."

...

"Ssh," Edward hushed as I tried to hide my giggling in his side.

"He's going to notice," I whispered, watching as Edward threw another piece of popcorn at the unsuspecting man.

His hand went to his inky hair and Edward stared straight ahead at the movie screen. I followed his lead, fighting the smile that fought to break through.

The man turned around, trying to find the culprits. Edward kept the bucket of his popcorn at his knees, hiding it from the man. He turned back around and threw his arm around the girl he brought.

I could tell she didn't want to be here with him. She wanted to be with her best friend's guy. Her best friend, however, had no trouble being unfaithful with the inky haired man, who also had no problem seducing any girl who came in his path.

It was another gift. I could see the relationship lines between people. I could tell who they were emotionally attached to and who they wanted to be attached to.

When Edward had asked me to pick someone, it was an easy choice.

"You try," he whispered, handing over his bucket. I took a kernel and aimed. The man swatted at his hair but didn't bother turning around.

"Okay, we have to stop," I said after I had finished laughing.

"Once more," Edward said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. My eyes widened and I shook my head. He would know for sure. Edward hushed me and threw the popcorn at the man.

This angered the inky haired man and he stood up.

Quickly before I could even fathom what he was planning on doing, Edward turned his head toward mine and caught my lips with his.

The kiss managed to kill whatever giggles had been falling through my lips before. And I was kissing him back. Burying my hand in his thick hair and angling mouth.

His lips moved purposefully over mine and they were soft and hard all at the same time. It was the best kiss of my existence.

It was then I knew I was really in trouble.

…

He scratched the back of his head as he let me pass into his tiny apartment. The living room was small and led into the kitchen. There was a small hallway that I assumed held his bedroom and bathroom.

"It's lovely," I said, wanting to put him at ease. It was far better than the tiny basement apartment I rented.

I shouldn't have been here. No good would come of this, but I couldn't help myself. I had fallen for him and though I knew it was stupid, I couldn't care.

"Let me—"

He started to reach for my leather jacket.

"No!" I shouted in a panic, roughly pulling away from his grasp. The jacket hid the wings that were tucked securely underneath it. I could pass by unnoticed as long as no one looked too hard, but Edward always looked too hard. He saw me.

He would surely see my wings.

"Sorry. You can keep it on," he said, raising a brow in question. I only nodded and walked off toward the kitchen, embarrassed by my behavior.

"So I hope you like chicken," he said, walking pass me toward the stove.

"Actually I'm a vegetarian," I said slowly. His eyes widened and his cheeks heated with color.

"Oh gosh. I should have asked. Shit, I'm so—" his apology was cut short as I started to laugh heavily at his expression.

"I'm just kidding," I managed to say through fits of laughter. He threw his kitchen towel at me.

"That's not funny," he muttered. I sobered up and walked quickly to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and placing a soft gentle kiss on his lips.

"It was pretty funny, though I'm sorry I made you feel bad," I whispered. He smiled and leaned down to kiss me again. His lips melded with mine and I sighed in content. No one should be as good a kisser as he was.

"You'll just have to make it up to me later," he said against my mouth before pulling away. He began to stir the creamy dish and I helped by making a salad.

It was so easy to be around him. It was easy to joke around and laugh. It was easy to smile and have fun.

It was so very frightening. I feared this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to me, but I was far too selfish to stop it. I liked him too much.

Which was proven later that evening as his hands traveled up my shirt, his calloused hands sending a wake of fire along my skin. His mouth providing heavenly torture on my neck.

"Bella," he whispered, my name sounding like a glorious song. I was so distracted by his mouth and tongue and just the feel of him, that I didn't pay attention to his wandering hands.

I didn't realize the fire was slowly traveling my up my bare back. Not until I felt the tip of his finger skim my wing. I froze.

"Bella?" his voice had changed. It was no longer breathy and rough, but filled with timid curiosity. I pulled his hands away and stood from the sofa abruptly.

"I have to go," I choked out, feeling the tears well in my eyes. This was so very wrong. I knew it. I knew this was wrong.

"Bella wait!" Edward called as I ran toward his door. I threw it open and ran as fast as I could, down the stairs and out the door. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he chased after me. Quickly I turned into an alley way and ripped off my leather jacket, wrapping my wings around me and disappearing.

...

I didn't go to see him again. I ignored the constant phone calls. He had gotten me a prepaid phone shortly after we had starting seeing one another. I tried to refuse it, but he had persisted. I knew I should have thrown it away, but I couldn't.

It was the only link I had to him, though I knew I should forget him.

So I focused on my job.

I focused on the only thing I was sure of.

Life slowly went back to normal and the winter days slowly melted away to early April.

I missed him terribly but I knew it was for the best. How would I explain what I was anyway? He would think I was crazy. He would call me hurtful names and then I would be heartbroken. Wasn't it better this way?

I could preserve his memory. The spark of hope that told me there were good men out there.

The early spring kept me busy. Young college students exploring their options and their bravery. I was always busiest during the spring.

It didn't help, watching the couples I pierced fall in love. Not when my mind centered around one boy. Would I one day have to pierce him as well? Would I be able to?

It was on a particularly warm Saturday that he found me again.

He crept on me before I could even notice he was around me.

"Bella," he gasped, grabbing hold of my elbow as I walked through Millennium Park. I enjoyed spending my days around the park and taking in the nice weather. I didn't think I would run into him.

"Edward," I breathed. My chest expanded of just the sight of him. I hadn't realized how much I had missed him.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice heavy and his eyes dark. I shook free from his grasp.

"We have nothing to talk about," I said.

"You owe me that much. Please," he begged. I hesitated. I didn't owe him anything. Not really. But I couldn't just walk away.

"Okay," I whispered. He took my hand, entwining his fingers with mine as we walked along the park. When we reached an empty bench he sat and began digging on the inside of his jacket. I sat and stared at my hands.

"I just want the truth. Please," he asked, handing me what looked like old newspaper. I looked down.

It was a copy of an article.

Printed in 1964.

I gasped, staring at my high school picture plastered on the paper.

"You went missing in 1964. This is you! I just I want to understand!"

I felt the tears well in my eyes.

"Why are you here?! Why do you even care? Just leave…pretend I don't exist!" I shouted, standing.

Before I could walk away, he grabbed my hand, forcing me to stay.

"I don't want to forget you. Shit, if I did I would have. I'm not gonna lie…this is some really freaky shit. A part of me wants to run away kicking and screaming, but I can't. I can't run away from you," he said, desperation evident in his voice. I stared down at him.

At this marvelous boy who didn't run. Who accepted it. Who just wanted to know why.

"Why?"

"I love you," he said, as though it was obvious.

…

His fingers were gentle in their exploration. They were timid, yet curious. His light touch brought shivers down my back.

"Sorry," he said, his voice full of awe.

"It's okay. It's just…weird. No one's ever touched them before," I said, my own voice full of fear and nerves. I was sure at any moment he would run screaming.

"They're beautiful," he said, tracing the dark patterns that decorated my large wings.

I felt my face heat. His words made me feel special and loved.

I felt loved. My whole boy felt like it was glowing.

Was this what I gave to people.

For the first time since I had been pierced, I appreciated my job. I gave this to people. I gave this happy glow that seemed to melt my bones and warm my skin. This vibration in my very chest and the feeling that nothing could ever go wrong. I turned slowly in his hands and caught my lips with his, loving the soft firmness.

This kiss wasn't rushed. It was slow. We took our time showing how much we loved each other. It didn't take long for the kiss to heat more than just our hearts.

I wasn't afraid to show him me. I wasn't afraid to show him I loved him.

I didn't refuse him when he pulled my shirt off and I helped him remove his own.

We were slow and we were gentle. He lowered me on my back, slowly and surely. His kisses were confident, but his hands shook as he trailed them down my skin.

This was new. It was a different love I was not familiar with.

It was beautiful and messy and fun.

Through it all I never doubted how much he loved me. I felt it in his fingertips, his kisses, his gentle rocking.

When it was over, he pressed his face in the cool sheets next to my head. I couldn't help but giggle as he panted.

"I love you," he whispered between heavy breaths.

…

I awoke sometime later, my face pressed against his chest and his fingers absent-mindedly trailing along my arms. His forearms brushed my feathers making me shiver slightly.

It was hard not to fall right back asleep in his arms, but before I could his voice startled me.

"Bella," he said his voice rough and tired.

"Mmm," I hummed, listening to the steady pounding of his heart.

"How does it all work?" he asked.

"What work?" I asked sleepily. I had explained the basics to him yesterday. I told him the story of the alley way. How I realized what I was and the responsibilities I had.

"Why don't you age or die? Is it magic? Can you give it up?" he whispered. I could sense the fear in his words. I could sense emotions fairly well.

"I don't know why. Love is timeless I supposed. It's just the way things are. It's not a normal day job, Edward. I can't just quit," I said, standing and holding the sheets against me. I felt foolish for believing he would just accept me. Why should he?

"No, that's not…Bella, I don't care if you can't quit. I just…I wanted to know. I love you, truly, I do."

"I can't promise you a normal life. I can't possibly have children and soon you'll get older and I'll stay exactly the same way. I—"

"Will you still love me when I'm old and gray?" he whispered, his lips sending small kisses down my cheek and neck as he lowered me back into bed. I giggled softly, running my hands through his silken hair.

"Edward, I can't imagine not loving you. But you deserve so much better," I whispered my own voice full of agony and sadness.

"So do you. You don't deserve to watch people fall in love and never have it for your own. You don't deserve never being able to have what you give to others every day. I want you, Bella. I don't need your arrow in my ass to know you're it for me," he said, cracking a smile. I snorted and rose to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Move in with me," he whispered when we broke apart.

His words froze my heart and then caused it to pick up pace.

"What?" I whispered.

"Move in with me. I just…I want to be with you. I want to take care of you. I can't offer you much but I can give you a place to sleep. I can love you every day. I know you don't need shelter, but I want this to be home. I want to be your home" he pleaded, his eyes searching mine.

I didn't know what to say.

I stroked his face, admiring the smooth skin of his cheek.

"Ok."

…

It was surprisingly easy being with Edward. Even more so after having told him the truth. I wasn't lying or trying to hide anything.

He didn't worry when I didn't come home some nights. He knew what I was doing. He had even joined me. Because I had told him, he was able to see the arrows and bow. He was amazed that no one else could.

I told him people ignore things that shouldn't be there. People ignored me.

Until him.

He would watch in awe as I took off the quiver and bow and they disappeared before his eyes. He could only see them when I was holding them.

I could still see them, but for him, they were gone. He could not see or touch them. They weren't meant for mortals to handle.

He accepted me so easily. He accepted all the strange truths I had brought along. It was so easy being with him. It was so easy being in love. It was only a matter of time before it fell apart.

…

_Meet for coffee, if you can?_

I read the text, a smile quickly overtaking my face.

_Of course_, I quickly sent. I placed the bow around my shoulders and ran off to an empty alley. I freed my wings, shaking them off before wrapping them around me.

It didn't take long to appear in the usual alley way behind the coffee shop. I placed my jacket back on and walked toward the familiar hangout Edward and I usually visited.

I stopped before entering, watching him through the large glass windows. He hadn't spotted me, yet. Sometimes I loved to hang back and watch him. I admired his broad shoulders and tall stature. His confident smile and unruly hair. He was really quite gorgeous.

He chatted with the barista, laughing and causing her to blush. I smiled, knowing his charm was probably turning her into goo. I wondered just how young he was when he discovered his dangerous charisma.

Suddenly I pictured a smaller boy with the same bronze hair and sparkling green eyes. His smile and laugh the same as his fathers.

It was then, watching him interact with the girl that I knew.

He loved me. And I loved him.

But where would his love for me take him? Constantly attached to a girl who would never age. A girl who would never die. It would take him nowhere. I could not give him a family or a life.

I was unnatural. I was meant to hide in the outskirts of society. People didn't notice things they didn't want to see. No one saw me. I blended. Until him. He had saw me and never left me alone. He had accepted me, but I couldn't give him anything in return.

But this girl. This shy and demure girl could. She could give him a family. She could grow old with him. She could be introduced to his family and have a life with him.

I saw the way she looked at him. I saw it every time we walked in the shop. The secret longing that hid in her eyes. I ignored it. Edward always got those looks, but I could see that if it were not for me, perhaps Edward would return the feelings.

Just then, my bow heated, hotter than ever in my hands. I almost dropped it at the intensity of the heat. It burned.

Was this it then? Fate's final cruel act.

I was meant to shoot him.

I felt the tears sting my eyes and my chest shake from the pain. This wasn't fair. He was supposed to be mine.

But I would not deny him. I loved him enough to be selfless. I wanted him to be happy.

I raised my bow, pulled an arrow, and took my aim. I kept my arm straight, pulling the other back.

I watched the colors shift on his form, the bright red spot on his chest.

With a deep breath, I released the arrow and let it fly. Some sick part of me needed to see it. Needed to know it was over.

I watched the arrow magically fly through the glass as though it was liquid, heading straight for Edward's heart. It sunk in the back of his chest and I watched him gasp with shock. It was done.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Quickly I stumbled away, forcing my feet to run and take me as far away as they could. I ran until my chest burned and my legs ached. I ran far into the streets I did not recognize, until people became scarce and all that surrounded me were empty building and quiet streets.

I hadn't realized it, but I was running to the apartment. The building I called home with Edward. It only made sense. I could finish erasing myself from his life.

Quickly I opened the lobby door and ran up the steps to our shared second story flat. I was trying so hard to keep my emotion at bay, but staring at the one place I had called home broke me. I felt the tears sting heavily and my chest ache with loss.

I had nothing here. I didn't need to be here. I wiped the tears off my cheeks and placed both the phone and the keys he had given me on the coffee table.

I yanked at my jacket and bow, prepared to transport somewhere far far away.

But as soon as I touched my bow, it heated. So much that I could feel the welts of the burn. I dropped it in surprise, the clang of the ivory echoing in the small space.

I panted, watching the white bow heat red. It had never done that before. I pulled my quiver off and pulled an arrow from it. It was also burning hot.

I wasn't done for today. I would never be done. I couldn't just run away. I couldn't just leave the city.

I would always be forced to watch people fall in love and never be able to have what I alone could give. Edward was right. I didn't deserve this.

Was this what happened to the strange creature fifty years ago? Had they given up to?

And finally, I felt the courage pump through my veins, allowing me to do what I had always been so afraid of. I stared at the arrow and twirled it in my fingers, admiring the beauty. Slowly I stroked the long white shaft, playing with the soft feathers at the end.

Slowly I took the ruby read arrowhead and placed it near my heart.

With a deep breath for courage, I plunged it into my chest. I gasped at the pain. I hadn't felt physical pain in half a century.

It was excruciating. My lungs felt like they were being split in half and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I gasped, dropping to my knees. I couldn't stop. I couldn't. I needed this to end. I wanted this to end.

I pushed further, fighting for my numbered breaths, gasping as warm dark liquid seeped from my breast and onto my hands.

It was so warm.

I was mesmerized. I hadn't known I could still bleed. It almost made me feel human. The thought caused a small smile. With that added strength, I pushed the arrow hard one last time.

I felt the pain melt away as I slumped heavily onto the ground.

I was done. I was finished.

The thought was freeing.

I was almost happy as I felt the black cloud my vision and then my mind.

…

"Bella?"

A whisper broke through the darkness. My chest ached, but I was not in pain.

My hands went to my breast, what I was expecting to find, I do not know. I was not, however, expecting to find clear unmarred skin. There was no arrow. No blood.

I fought against the heaviness on my eyelids and did my best to open my eyes.

I saw his gaze, green and vibrant. A bright smile spreading across his face.

"Edward?" I whispered.

I was alive.

.

.

_**This story was meant to be posted on Valentine's Day. Seriously I started writing it in October with all intents and purposes of posting it yesterday and then I failed. **_

_**Anyway it was inspired by the music video Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. Go check it out. It's amazing. **_

_**Happy Belated Valentine's Day. Share the love and review. **_


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